Those damn daisy dukes.

Beau

Repairing fences is backbreaking, yet therapeutic work, and right now I feel like I need some serious therapy. The sun is shining for the first time in days. Everything for miles is soggy and damaged including my fields and three sections of fencing.

I’ve been up since dawn, and by up, I mean upright, since my mind was awake all night thinking about a certain forbidden woman that I caught a glance of between wind shears yesterday. Thinking about her is starting to get annoying.

It’s not surprising for me to obsess about something I can’t have. I’ve always been that way. Give it to me on a silver platter and I’ll turn and walk away. Hold it hostage in a locked box and I’ll get my axe and destroy the box to make it mine.

Charlotte has always been forbidden but I wasn’t attracted to her type, the cheerleading, peppy into everything type. I wasn’t interested in any of the girls at Lincoln High School back then. I got what I needed physically from the women who worked the ranch. They were usually drifters who needed the same thing I did, sex with no strings.

Carmen was my favorite. She traveled around with a rodeo and every time she came close she’d take a job at the Whiskey Hill Ranch. We spent hours meeting each other’s needs, in the house I spent all of my spare time building in high school, but she hasn’t been around for years.

No woman has affected me the way Charlotte’s touch did yesterday and no woman has ever invaded my mind so thoroughly.

I cleared the tree, blocking the road, first thing this morning. I told myself I did it out a sense of community obligation, you know, so everyone had access to town. But that was total bullshit.

I did it to make sure Charlotte and her family had access to their land and mine. I want to bump into her again. I need to see if the magnetic feeling yesterday was real, or just storm energy flowing up from the ground into our bodies.

Not that it matters. I can’t have her anyway. My parents would have a fucking stroke if they knew I helped her back into her truck yesterday. My great, great, great grandpa, yes this stupid feud has been going on that long, allegedly stole Charlotte’s great, great, great grandpa’s girlfriend, who later became his wife.

So, if you think about it, I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for my womanizing great, great, great grandpa and Charlotte’s two timing almost great, great, great, grandma.

There were other issues, like a fire that we Hills allegedly set in their barn and one hundred acres of land that both families believe is theirs. No one has the actual deed to prove ownership, but it’s on our side of the road and I maintain it.

That land sat unused for years until I couldn’t stand it anymore. They could sue me if they wanted, but I wasn’t going to allow it to be neglected and overgrown forever. I cleared it and built a small house there.

The feud is stupid but some people can’t let go of the past and unfortunately our families are some of those people.

Pulling the last of the new barbed wire taut, I feel the stress of the last few days catch up to me. I’m beat, but staying busy is the only way I can keep my mind off of yesterday’s encounter with Charlotte.

When I’m done my phone buzzes in the soaking wet back pocket of my jeans. It’s spring but the heat came early this year and I’ve been sweating buckets today, good thing for waterproof phone cases.

I roll my eyes to nobody but myself, when I see my mother’s name on the screen. “Beau, you need to come in and eat supper. You’ve been out in the fields all day. Did you even have lunch? You know how dangerous it is for you to be out there alone when your blood sugar drops…”

“Mom,” I cut her off, “I just finished up and I had a sandwich earlier. My blood sugar is fine I checked it, stop worrying.” My mother worries for a living. She used to be the family accountant but now she is a professional worrywart.

“I’m your mother, it’s my job to worry about you. So, you’re heading back to the house now?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”

“Why so long? I thought you said you were done.”

“I have to drop a few things off in the east barn and check on the herd.” I do have to drop off some equipment, but I had already checked on the herd after I cleared the tree from the road this morning. What I’m really going to do is drive out to the road and see if anyone is at the Deardon ranch.

The chances that I’ll catch them there are slim since they have had all day to come back and it wouldn’t take but a few seconds to survey the damage and leave, but I’m going anyway.

“All right, don’t take long supper’s almost ready and your father and the guys just got back.”

“I’m coming Mama, promise.”

“I love you my boy, see you soon.”

“Love you too Ma, bye.”

I load up the truck and make my way to the eastern pasture. When I’ve checked on the cows and put my tools back into one of six metal barns on our property, I start out toward the main road crossing my fingers that I’ll run into Charlotte.

Why? Why in the hell am I doing this? What am I going to do if she’s actually there? I can’t very well drive onto their land and say, Hey, I know your family just lost everything but do you wanna bury the hatchet and go out on a date?

I’m sure they’re busy meeting with the insurance people and making arrangements to start rebuilding. That’s what I would be doing, if the twister hadn’t jumped my ranch and demolished theirs.

When I’m almost to the end of the drive I’m not surprised to see no one in the abandoned Deardon driveway. This was a long shot. I may as well go check on the road and make sure dad’s ranch hands loaded up the branches of the tree that couldn’t be used as firewood.

Sweat trickles between my shoulder blades and down my back when I turn onto the main road facing into the sun, and I wipe another drop from the side of my face. I don’t use the air conditioning when I’m in and out of the truck all day. It’s too hard for my body to adjust to the temperature change. I’d rather sweat.

Once I’m on the main road the sun catches something on the hill and reflects a blinding flash in my face. I blink away the blotchy spots and look back toward the Deardon’s ranch.

Ironically the only thing left of their ranch is the wrought iron gate, that now guards nothing. It’s closed, but half way up the drive sits a white pickup truck. A woman sits on the hood with her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around them.

It’s Charlotte. I stop the truck and pull off to the side to watch her. Her shoulders are shaking, she’s crying.

I guess if I were her I might be doing the same thing, except that I never cry and especially not in public. Part of me wants to whip the truck around and go make sure she’s okay but what would she say? What would she do? Slap me and tell me to get the fuck off of her land? Nah, I don’t see her as the foul-mouthed rude type. She did thank me yesterday for pulling her out of the mud after all.

She might ignore me, get into her truck and drive away. At least then I’d know where I stand. But I’ll never know if I don’t go up there and find out, and I have to find out.

You need to have your head examined Beau, I mumble to myself as I make a U turn in the road and pull into her driveway. The gate is closed but not locked. I hop out and swing it open as quietly as I can and make my way up the drive to where Charlotte’s truck is stopped.

As if she can’t hear me, she doesn’t move a muscle when I approach but I know better. My truck runs on diesel fuel and it’s not quiet, she has to hear me.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. I loathed this woman in high school. I even had a nick name for her, piggy princess. Her family didn’t have pigs, but she lived on a ranch, her name was Charlotte, and she definitely acted like a princess. I never said the name out loud but now that we are adults I feel guilty for thinking it at all.

I stop the truck directly behind hers and get out. I expect her to turn or acknowledge that someone is coming up behind her but instead she wipes her nose on the back of her hand and sniffs, a very non princess, cheerleader thing to do.

I stop next to her, with my hands in my pockets, and keep my eyes trained in the same direction as hers when I speak.

“I’m sorry about the ranch.”

“Are you?”

How does she even know who she’s talking to? She hasn’t glanced in my direction and she’s nowhere near the side mirror on her truck but she sounds annoyed and angry.

“Yes, I am. If there’s anything I can do to help, all you have to do is ask.” The words are out of my mouth before I even consider the consequences of my offer. She could potentially ask me for anything although I doubt she will.

“There’s nothing left to do, it’s all gone…” Her words are soft as they trail off into the breeze.

“You can rebuild, it’ll be hard work but I’m sure your family can do it. This has been Deardon land for over a hundred years, you can’t give up now.”

With her hands palm down on the metal for balance, she turns her body on the hood of the truck to face mine. The wind whips tendrils of blond hair around her face that have been tugged free from the braid down her back. She’s stunning and I know right away that the magnetism I felt last night wasn’t from the storm, it wasn’t a fluke, this is real, honest to God chemistry going on between us.

“Well we aren’t all as rich as you Beau Hill. Apparently we would have been out of business even if the tornado hadn’t sucked everything I love up into the sky and scattered it all over the Montana plains.”

I knew her family was struggling, people talk but I had no idea things were that bad. But still, the insurance money had to be enough to build a new house and give them a small fresh start. And the comment about me being rich, what was that?

“I didn’t mean to pry into your family’s private business. I am sorry about what happened though and I hope you decide to give it another shot.”

I see confusion in her eyes along with something else… curiosity maybe? She looks away toward the horizon keeping her body turned toward me.

“Thank you for cleaning up the tree,” she says changing the subject. I guess we are done talking about the ranch.

“You’re welcome. I figured you wanted to get through to see…” I stop when I realize I’ve unintentionally steered the conversation back to her loss.

“I thought I wanted to see this but now I don’t. I didn’t believe them when they said everything was gone. I thought they had to be exaggerating. Now my last memories of home will be of baron land and an empty hill where my house used to stand.”

I want to go to her, put my arms around her and pull her against my chest and let her cry like we are old friends or lovers. But that’s insane we don’t know each other at all, aside from our high school reputations.

I feel charmed or cursed depending on how you look at it. Being attracted to your family’s archenemy poses more than a few problems. What I’m feeling right now is different; it’s intense, irresistible and a little terrifying.

This isn’t me, I don’t have feelings for women past sex. I never understood what attracted people to monogamy and marriage. I have no desire to have kids, and I don’t need a woman to take care of me, so what’s the point? Women are for sex and they’re nice to look, at but committing to just one until I die, nope, that’s never been my style.

“Charlotte,” I say reaching out to touch her shoulder. I shouldn’t but I can’t resist.

She looks down at my hand and then into my eyes with that perplexed expression again. The tiny squint lines between her eyes deepen and she cocks her head to the side ever so slightly.

“I meant it when I said if you need anything. I’m just across the road.”

“Beau, our families despise each other. I couldn’t ask for your help even if I wanted to.”

I remove my hand from her shoulder and lean my hip against her truck. “They don’t need to know.”

Rolling her eyes she snorts and slides off the hood of the truck. She’s dressed in daisy duke shorts today, the kind I fucking love, and a pink t-shirt with her muddy ass boots. She was pure country perfection with creamy white skin that hasn’t had time to tan yet this spring, and curves that would make a man fall off his horse.

“Thanks, but there’s no keeping secrets from my dad and we aren’t rebuilding anyway. I just came out to say goodbye to the land before we sell.” She rounds the truck and hops inside with me on her heels.

“I know I said I wouldn’t pry but I’m going to anyway. Why? Why walk away?”

“I have to go. It was nice to meet you after all these years. You’re not as bad as my dad says you are.”

“Thanks, I think. How long are you in town for?”

“Until I find my family a home.”

“Don’t you graduate in a couple of months?”

“Yeah, I’m supposed to but I can’t leave my family hanging with no place to live. They need my help.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb here, but I have a small house at the West end of the ranch that’s just sitting empty. I built it a few years ago for… for someone who needed a place to stay. If you need it, it’s yours.”

She lowers her head and looks up at me with narrowed eyes. “Why would you do that?”

I push my hand through my hair and sigh. She’s so suspicious, but I guess it’s to be expected if her family has been telling her I’m a jerk her whole life. “I’m offering to help, that’s it, no tricks.” I reach through her window and take her phone from her breast pocket, careful not to cop a feel, and enter my number in her contacts. “Just in case,” I say, handing it back to her.

She straightens her posture and takes ahold of the steering wheel, chuckling, and starts the truck. “If hell freezes over and my parents are stricken blind and deaf I’ll be sure to knock on your door. Thanks though, I’ll figure something out.”

I shrug like I don’t care. “Suit yourself. If you’re in a pinch the offer stands. Just knock on my door,” I repeat her words with a twist of sarcasm.

“Thanks.” She puts the truck in reverse. “Can you move your truck?”

She’s rude and it’s irritating but it’s also a fucking turn on. I don’t want her to leave but we have no reason to keep talking. I shake my head and meander back to my truck, taking my time opening the door and putting on my seatbelt. I adjust all of my mirrors and do a thorough sweep of my surroundings to annoy her before I back down the drive to the main road.

I drive straight across the road and under the Whiskey Hill Ranch sign, which stretches over the open gates, toward the main house. In my rearview mirror, that is now perfectly adjusted, I watch her head back to town.

Something isn’t right with all that. The Deardons wouldn’t just give up their ranch. They love their land as much as my family loves ours and there’s nothing that would keep us from rebuilding. No natural disaster, no fire, no financial problem would be bad enough to keep us from picking up the pieces and starting over.

I have to find out what’s going on and Charlotte is less than forthcoming about sharing. One good thing, and one very bad thing, about living in a tight knit community is if you want to know someone’s business all you need to do is ask.

I park in the circle drive and take a moment to soak in the beauty of our ranch. The crystal blue skies and fluffy transparent clouds that stretch on forever, the pond with a large dock that our family uses for holiday and birthday celebrations when the weather cooperates. The green pastures and the barns make Whiskey Hill ranch the most beautiful place on earth.

The second my feet hit the ground my phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s mom again.

“Beau? Supper is ready are you planning on coming home soon?”

“Yeah mom, I just talked to you a few minutes ago don’t you remember?”

She’s quiet for a moment while she tries to pluck that particular conversation from her brain. She was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s disease last fall. I’m still trying to get used to the idea that she’s not just forgetful, she’s sick.

“Well I uh, I don’t…”

“It’s okay, Mom. I’m here, don’t worry about it.”

I hang up and open the front door to the main house. She’s standing in the kitchen in her white floor length nightgown staring at the phone in her hand like it’s a foreign object.

I make my way through the living room to the kitchen and gently take the phone from her hands.

“Why aren’t you dressed, Mom?”

She looks down and fingers the thin material. When her eyes return to mine she is distressed and confused. “I don’t know.”

I smile and pull her into a hug. “It’s okay, it’ll be time for bed soon. You’re just one step ahead of the game. Where’s dad?”

Like a switch has been turned on she pulls away and she’s my mother again. “He had to go out with Dean to the East pasture. They finally found that cow, the one that’s been missing for a couple of days.”

“Is she ready to calve?”

“I don’t think so but they wanted to get her back close to the buildings in case she does.”

She starts bustling around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on a pot roast supper, as if she never had that moment of disconnect. I worry about her in the house alone. Dad said he would never leave her by herself but he does it all the time.

“Oh, before I forget,” she says, spinning around with a dish of giant baked potatoes in her hands. I wonder if she actually means before I forget or if she knows she loses time.

“The Deardon’s hadn’t kept up their insurance policy, they can’t rebuild. I mentioned it to your father and it sounded like he might like to buy them out.”

I didn’t even have to leave the ranch. The Deardon’s troubles made it through the gossip mill all the way to my kitchen with no prying on my part.

My thoughts go to Charlotte and the underlying anger and irritation she just had with me a few minutes ago. How could they let their insurance lapse? She had planned her whole life around working on that ranch as a vet, no wonder she’s mad.

“That’s really bad business. Were they having financial trouble?” I lean against the counter and act dumb.

“Yes, Georgina says they were going to file for bankruptcy before the tornado.”

Georgina is the biggest town gossip of them all but as the pastor’s wife she would never admit it. Mom hasn’t been in town for days, she must have been so excited about this news she called to tell her on the phone.

Everyone knows about the long-standing feud between the Hill’s and the Deardon’s. Georgina probably couldn’t wait to fuel that fire. She doesn’t know mom has Alzheimer’s yet, no one other than my dad and I knows.

“That’s too bad. I can’t imagine losing everything like that.”

“Well, it’s their own fault for letting the insurance slide. Jake Deardon was never a good business man anyway; it was just a matter of time.”

“Mom, do you hear yourself? You sound so judgmental and… and, sorry mom but bitchy.”

She stops arranging the food on the table and puts her hands on her hips. “Beau Hill, since when do you have a soft spot for those people? They’re nothing but a bunch of whiney arsonist thieves. Jake’s great great great grandpa set fire to your daddy’s great great great grandpa’s barn…”

“For stealing his girlfriend and making her his wife. I know, Mom, I’ve heard the story a million times.”

“Well then you shouldn’t sympathize with them.”

“Mom, that was a hundred years ago. Don’t you think it’s about time to bury the hatchet and let it go?”

Her mouth drops open and her hands fall from her hips. Pointing a finger at me she steps forward and pokes it on my chest and speaks cryptically. “No I do not. The sins of the past will always haunt the future.”

I roll my eyes and step aside to go wash up. That’s such crap. I can’t believe that she can be so angry about something that happened so long ago. It’s time somebody closed the book on the Deardon/Hill family feud and that somebody is going to be me.